Project Poseidon
by Good God It's Reanna
Summary: Agent Annabeth Chase is tired of being given 'baby missions' after seven years as an agent, while her inferiors are assigned big name cases. After countless arguments with her superior, Director Pierce, she is finally assigned a decent assignment, the Houdini Brothers case. Get this right, and she could be on her way to the assignment that defines her career. AU
1. The Re-Assignment

**Annabeth had certainly not wanted her day to end like this.**

She ripped her earpiece out, winced, and threw it on her desk as she walked past. Her heels clicked rhythmically on the linoleum floor as she paced towards the director's office. She was going to give him a piece of her mind. She reached the door- a tall piece of glass held in place by a mahogany frame. Small, black print was conveniently placed at eye level, reading _MacGregor D. Pierce: Eastern Division Director._ Annabeth drew a deep breath, and connected her knuckles with the mahogany. Three quick taps. She looked down and fixed the hem of her standard issue vest, awaiting a reply.

"Yes?" a voice enquired from the other side of the door. Annabeth took this as her cue to barge right in. "Annabeth," the director sighed, noting her arrival, and lowered his newspaper.

"Yes, sir," she huffed. "Look, I know I've brought this matter up before, but—"

"If you've said it once, you've said it a thousand times," he cut her off. "So tell me: why am I hearing it again?" He removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. His greying hair was strategically combed to hide the fact that he was balding, a fact that no agent in the division had the courage to make fun of.

"Because, with all due respect, sir, you don't seem to listen," she spat back. Regret washed over her, but only momentarily, until she resolved with herself that he deserved it. After all, she wasn't going to be held back by some middle aged, high and mighty, drunk on authority jerk who couldn't see what an asset she was to this division.

The director sighed, obviously tired of this seemingly never-ending argument. He folded his arms over his chest, "Well, Agent Chase, I can assure you that you now have my full, undivided attention."

 _Finally._

"You can't keep giving me the 'baby missions'," she started. "If I have to pull one more cat out of a tree, or listen to one more crying child who's skinned their knee, I will shoot myself. That's rookie work. I have been a _professional secret agent_ at Eastern Division for seven years, and I am sick and tired of watching third- and fourth-years being assigned bigger cases than me," while she delivered her spiel, Annabeth had been closing the distance between herself and the Director Pierce. She'd ended up with he hands on the desk, towering over him. He seemed to be considering what she'd said, which infuriated her. It meant that she hadn't come off as bold or even confident, as she intended. Instead, she was merely a nuisance, a bug on the windshield of this man's pathetic existence.

"Agent Chase, you seem to not realise that I have many reasons and processes behind deciding which agent is assigned which case. With my many years of experience and expertise not only behind the desk as the director of the Eastern Division, for fifteen years might I add, but also as a field agent, you seem to undermine and, frankly, disrespect my judgement."

Annabeth stood her ground, not backing away from the desk, "Sir, you don't seem to realise that your judgement has recently been costing this division time and agents at a rate that is unprecedented. I've done my research. Surveys conducted focusing on agents leaving this specific division who worked for less than five years and have no intention in pursuing future prospects in the intelligence industry reveal that a big reason agents are leaving is because of anxieties surrounding inexperience in their assignments. Not to mention that giving such high stakes cases to inexperienced agents increases the time taken for the case to be solved and decreases the chances the perp will the caught and incarcerated. You need to give rookies time to work up to the big cases and gain experience while the experienced agents take care of the high stakes cases."

Silence from the director. She was about to elaborate when he muttered, "Fine."

"Fine?" She took a step back from the desk, faltering. The director straightened his posture.

"Fine, you can familiarise yourself with the Houdini Brothers case."

"But sir—"

"Agent Chase!" he bellowed, out of patience. "You will accept this case or so help me you will be rescuing cats from trees for the rest of your career! If you are the one or one of the agents responsible for solving this case and reprimanding the culprits, then- and only then- I will _consider_ assigning you to the Poseidon case."

Annabeth stood, stunned. Just the mention of her _possibly_ getting on the Poseidon case was enough to send her into shock for a week. She hadn't even suggested it to him, or had she?

"You're dismissed, Agent Chase," he replaced his glasses onto his nose and returned to his reading. Annabeth turned on her heel and left, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

* * *

Once she retired for the day and made her way back to her apartment, she sat on the couch for two hours, unmoving, laptop on lap, studying the Houdini Brothers dossier. It was a simple enough case: two brothers were robbing banks in the dead of night, leaving no trace but some useless security footage. They wore Guy Fawkes' masks during every robbery, so they couldn't be easily identified from the tapes.

When she became tired of reading and couldn't concentrate for another minute, she decided this would be the perfect time to pay rent. Annabeth shared the apartment with her best friend, Piper, and Piper's boyfriend, Jason. It wasn't overly big, but it was luxurious enough that only paying one third of the rent each left a gaping hole in their wallets. Now, Annabeth had a respectably-paying career, but she had paid for almost all the furniture in the home, and generously paid for groceries every week. She knew Piper and Jason were grateful, and it kept them all from being homeless and starving, so the three-bedroom, two-bathroom place was worth it in the long haul.

Annabeth paid the full rent online- she'd ask Jason and Piper for their cuts later- and printed off the transaction information that her bank emailed her. She hoped off the couch, retrieved her print from the printer that sat on a chair from the dining room set next to the television, and searched for the manila folder marked 'RENT' in careful handwriting. She added the paper to the growing collection and returned it to its place on the bookshelf on the other side of the television.

Just then the lock on the front door clicked, signalling Piper and Jason's arrival home. Annabeth jumped to her feet, ready to greet them, but instead they stumbled through the doorway attached at the face. _That's be right,_ Annabeth thought, only a little bitter. Tonight was date night. Not wanting to interrupt, she made a hasty exit to her bedroom, retrieving her laptop on the way. She closed the door behind her and plopped herself on the bed. She noticed a tightness around her feet for the first time since coming home, and looking down she realised she hadn't taken her shoes off. She pulled her left foot up and removed her 4-inch black stiletto. These shoes were definitely impractical for her career considering that she was often in combat, and they certainly didn't comply with dress code, but Annabeth liked to think she had a sort of philosophy behind them. Or at least that's how she justified then to herself. They were a challenge, and Annabeth loved nothing more than she loved a challenge. Many women could barely walk in heels, much less perform Krav Maga in them. As a perfectionist she was always willing to prove herself, and these shoes did that for her.

Of course, she didn't wear then to work all the time, especially if she was attending a mission that required tremendous stealth and agility, that just wouldn't be sensible. However, for the most part, these shoes were her way of saying _I'm feminine, and that doesn't mean I will hesitate to blow your head off the first chance I get_. And that was an important message to send at her workplace, and in her industry in general. Also, she liked to feel like a badass superhero when he was on missions.  
Annabeth was halfway through making notes on the case when she heard her bedroom door squeak open.

"Hey, Annie," Piper said, closing the door behind her.

"Hey, Pipes," Annabeth looked up from her work and set it aside. Piper seated herself at the foot of the bed, then after a second flopped back so she was laying down.

"Comfortable?"

"Very, thank you," she smiled. "How was work?"

Annabeth spared a glance at her notes, then turned her attention back to Piper, "I got on a new case."

"Really? That's amazing!" Piper sat up, genuinely excited for her friend.

"Yeah, but I totally had to grill the director for it," Annabeth sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"That's a shame," Piper studied the bedsheets, tracing the embroidery with her finger. "I wish that Director Dick could see how incredible you are at your job." She pulled Annabeth in for a hug, and Annabeth went willingly. They wrapped their arms around each other.

Annabeth sighed into Piper's shoulder, "Well, his name is Director Pierce, for a start, but I wish he did, too."

After a few seconds they pulled away from the embrace and Annabeth picked up her notebook, resting it on her lap.

"So, what case are you working on?" Piper inquired.

"The Houdini Brothers case," Annabeth tried to stifle her bitterness, but Piper's expression indicated that she wasn't entirely successful.

"Is that good?"

"Well, it's better than the last few cases I've been assigned."

There was a brief silence before Piper asked, "What's it about?"

Annabeth shot a glance at her, "You know I can't tell you that, it's confidential intel."

"But you know you want to tell me!" Piper teased, poking at Annabeth's sides.

"Okay, okay!" she giggled. "But it doesn't leave this room, promise?" Piper made a gesture as if she were zipping her lips closed. "Good. Basically, it's two brothers who are robbing banks in masks, leaving no trace that they've been there. Well, except for all the missing money," she handed her notebook over to Piper, who skimmed the information.

"Fingerprints?" Piper asked.

"None of theirs," Annabeth replied. "The feds have dusted for prints all over every bank they've hit."

"Security cameras?" Piper was a police officer herself, so she had more than a decent grasp on the protocol for these kinds of situations, just not the clearance for Annabeth to be divulging this intel.

"They're wearing masks, and the Houdinis had erased half the tapes," Annabeth knew it was unprofessional to be leaking this information, but it couldn't hurt to get an outsider's insight.

"They must've had something to hide, then?"

"Duh, try the fact that they were robbing a bank."

"Well, yeah, 'duh'," Piper muttered, returning her attention to the notes. "There's no mentions of guards is there?" Annabeth retrieved her laptop and propped it on her lap. With the dossier already open, she did a quick search in the file for the term 'guard'.

No results.

"Nope," she replied to Piper.

"Well, surely a bank's got to have guards, who leaves a bunch of money unattended at night?"

"That's a good point, Pipes," Annabeth took a pen from behind her ear and scribbled _GUARDS?_ on the top of the page Piper had the notebook open to. She made a mental note to bring it up at the next meeting.


	2. The Interrogation

**A few days later, Annabeth found herself in** in an interrogation room with a couple of choice agents who were also assigned to the Houdini Brothers case. After Annabeth's conversation with Piper about the case, she'd brought up the matter of guards at the last case briefing. With limited budgets and resources, the director revealed that the division had interviewed the guards from the first three heists, but not from the latest two: Liberty Bank and South Ridge National. These robberies had occurred within three weeks of each other, and it maddened Annabeth that the latter of the robberies could possibly have been prevented if the division had just interrogated the guards from the former heist. So, she'd volunteered herself and gained nods of willingness from Agents Schmidt and Livingston to work overtime, without pay, to interrogate the remaining guards. It was now very late, and Annabeth couldn't help but slightly regret her decision. They'd thoroughly questioned every single guard that had walked through that door, but couldn't get so much as an eye colour out of any them. It was late, and each interrogation was one hopeless case after the next.

Annabeth turned in her chair to her interrogation partner, "Time to call it a day, Schmidt?" Schmidt was a few years Annabeth's junior, in his fourth year. But he'd proven himself on multiple cases that he and Annabeth had worked on together, so she didn't feel a very compelling sense of superiority over him. She matched his height with her heels, and his dark, curly hair was currently a mere reflection of its usual gelled neatness after a long day in the poorly air-conditioned interrogation quarters. He was not of an awfully large build, which Annabeth had previously noted didn't really seem to bother him, seeing as he considered himself more of the brains behind operations rather than brawn and was much more confident in showcasing his intelligence rather than his physical strength. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing his skinny arms.

"We've got three more left, Chase," Schmidt said, motioning to the door. He checked his watch and sighed, "Might as well get through them now."

Annabeth sighed and turned to the agent named Julia Livingston who sat in the chair beside hers. She was at least thirty years Annabeth's senior, with dyed deep red hair and too bright eyeshadow. When Annabeth had first arrived as an agent at Eastern Division, Livingston had acted as a sort of mentor to her, so while the whole division unanimously agreed that she was terrifying, Annabeth had a deep-seated respect for her. Livingston was very good at her job, and in her hey-day, had been one of the division's top performing agents, astonishing her male counterparts. Once her time as a field agent came to a close after a string of career-threatening injuries, Livingston honed her skills in intelligence gathering and climbed the professional ladder to become the Head of Intelligence and Communication for the bureau, and with the power of her position, convinced her superiors that she should be relocated to the Eastern Division rather than confined to an office at Headquarters. She was everything that Annabeth aspired to become in her career.

"You up for it, Livingston?" Annabeth asked.

"I don't see why not," she replied, though obviously growing tired of the disappointing outcomes of the day.

"Alrighty," Annabeth sighed, searching her mind for the strength to get through the next three interviews. "Bring 'em in, Stu!"

The door opened, and the large, bald, broad-shouldered officer named Stu invited a short Latina woman inside the interrogation room. The woman walked with purpose, and kept her lips tight. The ringlets of the dark hair bounced with every step she took as she made her way to a seat across the table from the agents. Annabeth consulted her case notes on the witness. Name; Mia Rodriguez. Forty-two years of age. Five feet, one inch tall. Married once, with four children. Happily resides in Connecticut with her husband and sons, Eduardo, Carl, Joshua, and her daughter, Rosa. Simple enough.

"Ms. Rodriguez?" Annabeth gestured to the chair the woman had stopped behind, "Please, take a seat." Ms. Rodriguez did so, quietly.

"Right, Ms. Rodriguez," Annabeeth began, swapping her case notes for a notepad and retrieving a pen from behind her ear. "Where were you on the night of July 16th at 11:45?"

"At work," Ms. Rodriguez replied, softly but with conviction. "I work as a night guard at Liberty Bank. My shift that night began at 10:30pm and continued until 6am the next morning."

"Okay," Annabeth jotted some notes down on her pad.

While she was writing, Schmidt asked, "Ms. Rodriguez, during your shift, did you notice any strange activity around the bank?"

Annabeth looked up and studied the woman as she answered. She had the gift of being able to decipher if people were lying based on their expressions and body language. Well, it wasn't so much a gift so much as she had intensely studied the research and science behind it. It was a simple enough concept to grasp, and was an extremely useful skill in her line of work.

"As a matter of fact, I did," Ms. Rodriguez replied. Truth, so far. "I noticed two men, stealing money from the master vault." Her face was stone cold sober; she was telling the truth. Annabeth made a quick note on her pad: _two men/master vault_. She also made a mental note of how it was suspicious that Ms. Rodriguez hadn't reported this theft to the authorities already.

"Tell me, Ms Rodriguez, what did these two men look like?"

"One was tall, maybe seven foot. He had brown hair, with a scar down his left cheek. The other one was shorter, maybe six and a half feet, but her was a lot bulkier than the first man. They were both wearing black turtlenecks and gloves, and they were both wearing Guy Fawkes masks," she recalled, without and variation in her emotional tone. Very matter-of-factly. Not lying, but how could she have possibly known about the facial scar if they were wearing masks? Annabeth jotted down a couple more notes while moving her spare hand very slowly down to her gun. Ms. Rodriguez had made a critical error without having realised it. Schmidt caught on to Annabeth's train of thought and discreetly moved his hand close to his weapon by placing his hands on his narrow hips.

"Ms. Rodriguez, how did the me—"

Schmidt was cut off as Ms. Rodriguez abruptly stood and drew a revolver. She was only halfway through her draw when Annabeth and Schmidt drew their own weapons and aimed them straight at Ms. Rodriguez's chest. Livingston had ducked under the bulletproof table as unarmed agents were trained to do in this unlikely situation. The barrel of Ms. Rodriguez's revolver darted between Annabeth and Schmidt, unable to determine who was the deadlier target and needed to be eliminated first. This was the first time Annabeth had seen the woman's confidence falter since she entered the room.

"Ms. Rodriguez," Schmidt began again, "how did the men get into Liberty Bank?"

She waited a second before mumbling, "Isn't it obvious? I let them in! Are you stupid?"

"No," Annabeth defended. "We just needed to hear you say it." With one swift motion, she reached forward and seized Ms. Rodriguez's arm and twisted herself so she was sitting on the table which once separated the two of them. With Ms. Rodriguez's aiming arm over Annabeth's shoulder and the gun pointed at the wall, Annabeth pulled the gun out of her hand, effectively disarming her. Livingston appeared behind her with a pair of handcuffs at the ready, while Annabeth addressed Ms. Rodriguez.

"Ms. Rodriguez, you are under arrest for threatening an officer with a firearm and for acting as an accessory to a felony. You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say or do can be held against you in a court of law," she holstered her own gun and handed Ms. Rodriguez's to Schmidt as evidence. Livingston escorted a handcuffed Ms. Rodriguez out of the interrogation room, to the surprise of Stu, who was waiting standing guard just outside the door.

"Schmidt," Annabeth stopped him just as he was leaving the scene. "I need you to see how much intel you can gather from her accounts of the crime. I want to know her alliance to them, and I want to know where and when their next heist is going to be. We're going to catch the Houdini Brothers red-handed."

She'd have to thank Piper for the tip about the guards.


End file.
